"Jessie," I said, rising from my seat, and for the first time becoming visible to Mr. Lee,—"Jessie—"
"It is well, Martha, that you are here to check her. Another word, and she would have been no longer a daughter of mine."
He was white as marble. Never in my life had I seen him so agitated.
Jessie looked at him sorrowfully. There was something more than anger in his face—a wild, troubled doubt, that made him tremble. Jessie laid her hand on his arm, and her lips quivered into a smile.
"Oh, father! listen to me. Let this lady go; take us back to your heart again; her influence here has been terrible."
He shook off her hand, drew himself up, and spoke with proud calmness,—
"Jessie, be careful, if you would not forfeit my love—at once be careful."
Jessie drew back, and leaned on my shoulder, trembling from head to foot. The idea that her father could ever really turn against her had entered her heart for the first time. She was so white that her very face terrified me.
"Speak to him," she whispered,—"speak to him."
I was about to say something, but Mr. Lee waved his hand, silencing me with a haughty gesture. Jessie stood up, and spoke in a low, sad voice,—